


a steady place to lay down my defences (loving you had consequences)

by mariposaroja



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: EWE, Ending What Ending, F/M, Fluff, Gendrya - Freeform, Light Angst, Meaning, Not today, Post battle of Winterfell, Pregnancy, a fix it in anticipation of pain to come, but what do we say to the god of (ship) deaths?, don't know her, everything post episode 2 is not canon, please let them live, post 8x02, the pain has come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: In the heat of battle, no one really thinks about what comes after.





	1. Gendry

**Author's Note:**

> Gendrya is canon. 
> 
> Now let them live.

She survived. Against all odds, she survived even though many were lost. Too many. Arya thought that maybe after all these years, blow after blow, that it would get that little bit easier, that she’d learned to distance herself enough that it wouldn’t still tear at her heart with every breath she took. Thinking about her family as it was all those years ago when Robert Baratheon doomed them all.

It was the most curious feeling, the aftermath of battle. Walking through the ruins of the once-great castle and seeing death and destruction but also seeing joy and laughter. Arya wasn’t entirely sure what to feel herself. The Starks, the pack, survived (what was left of them, anyway) and for that she was thankful, but the absence of those faces that she had known, that she had fought alongside, was haunting.

Through it all, however, there was only one thing on her mind.

She found him right where she expected to, battle weary and half broken, hidden away from all those who were drinking and singing songs of the Night King’s demise that would live on for millennia. She couldn’t exactly blame him.

He could have chosen anywhere in the world and she would have followed him. Just to lay eyes on him. Just to remind herself that he was still living and breathing. Still warm and good and pure.

“Hey.”

It was inadequate, she knew that much. Still, she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Eyes raising from where he had been sitting and staring at the floor, where they’d made love (because that was what it was) seemingly an eternity ago now, Gendry left out a shaky breath, as if he had only imagined that she was still with him. Arya knew the feeling, she was still struggling to get a grasp reality herself. “Hey.”

Without saying another word, Arya made in his direction and sank down next to him, each movement feeling as if it wasn’t her own. There was a moment when they just sat there, completely still save for the slight tremble that ran through them both, before Arya felt an overwhelming need to hold him close. And so she did, arms wrapping around his almost too broad shoulders, feeling safe and warm and whole for the first time since they’d lain together when he hugged her around her waist, pressing his forehead against hers.

“It doesn’t feel real.”

“I know.” Oh, did she know.

Then, to her surprise, the corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile that brought years of memories crashing down on her once again. “Do you want to take it back?”

“Take what back?”

“You… You said you wanted to know what it felt like. You planned on dying.” At the look of complete and utter surprise on her face, Gendry smiled sadly. “It’s okay, you know. I understand.”

Arya Stark wasn’t a crier. She could probably count on two hands the amount of times in her eighteen years thus far, with fingers to spare. As the tears that she’d long held back began to spill through her lashes, she wondered why so many of those occasions had been his fault. “You really are the most stupid man I have ever met in my entire life.”

“Ouch!” he flinched when her little fist made contact with his bicep, though he couldn’t exactly say it hurt, “What have I done this time?”

“I always intended to survive, you idiot. I _needed_ to survive. For you. For _us_.”

Proving her entirely right, his brow furrowed, the flicker of the nearby fire casting a glow over his face. “I don’t-“

She wasn’t going to give him the chance to hang himself with his own mouth, taking advantage of the lack of height difference by pressing her lips against his. Years of tension seemed to melt away and disappear from her body when he responded in kind, hands moving to cup her face, tongue gently nudging her lips apart. Home, he felt like home. For the first time in forever, Arya Stark felt like she was right where she needed to be- right where she ought to be.

*

The funny thing about potentially life ending events was that no one really gave much thought to what came after. When the battle was over and won, when time had been given to pay respects to and mourn the fallen, when life had to move on…

There were some things that one didn’t exactly make allowances for when it was highly probably that you were living your last hours, even if you hoped against all logic that that wouldn’t be the case.

As Arya stared down at the little bump that stuck out between her hips that she could no longer ignore, she decided that maybe- just _maybe_ \- this was one of these things. If her missed bloods were not enough of an indication that perhaps something might be going on, the sickness and the very localised weight gain pretty much gave the game away.

Gendry, bless his soul, hadn’t noticed a thing.  

Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to, just as she hadn’t.

At the end of the day, she supposed it didn’t matter. As Jon Arryn had said so many years before, _‘the seed is strong’_.

Damn Baratheon genes…

*

Upon hearing the door opening, Gendry looked up from his work with a smile. “There you are.”

“You know,” Arya drawled just as she usually would, in an attempt to keep from betraying her anxiety, “I don’t know if you received the memo but the war is over. We have no immediate need for weaponry.” Or maybe they would, when Jon eventually found out that his little sister had a baby in her belly…

Fixing her with that smile of his that seemed to be reserved solely for her, he shrugged his shoulders, laying his tools down on the anvil. His current project could most certainly wait for later. “Keeps me busy.”

“Yes, well I think we might have something to keep us occupied soon enough…”

As she watched the confusion set in on his face, Arya realised that it was unkind to be so indirect. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words, even if the Maester had confirmed it. Instead, she brought her trembling hands to rest over her belly and watched as his brow furrowed even more, before the pin finally dropped.

The colour seemed to drain from his face at a hilarious, if a little alarming, rate.

“Gods, Arya. Don’t joke.”

Raising an eyebrow, she moved slowly towards him, fearing any sudden movement might finish him off completely. That was the last thing she needed. “I’m not joking. This is what your father wanted all along, you know. He just didn’t realise that he was going about it the wrong way.”

The humour was lost completely on Gendry, who still hadn’t moved an inch. “Tell me. Tell me straight.”

“All right,” she agreed, though she found that her bravado had almost completely deserted her, heart thumping so hard in her chest that she was sure he could hear it. Arya took a step closer, craning her neck so that she could look him in his beautiful blue eyes, eyes that she desperately hoped their child would inherit. “You put your baby in my belly. The Maester confirmed it.”

“Okay.”

“ _Okay_? What’s that supposed to me-“

The words died in her throat as his hands firmly grasped her waist, pulling her flush against his chest as his lips sought out hers. He kissed her just as he had done that very first night, like he had when they found their way to each other after the battle had finished, and it stole the breath from her lungs. She supposed his reaction could have been a lot worse…

“Tell me,” she mimicked him, “tell me straight.”

Eyes shining and grin threatening to cut his face in half, Gendry laughed, laughed like he hadn’t done in so long. “Does your offer to be your family still stand?”

“No,” she said and meant it completely, “I’ll be your lady.”

 


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also known as Jon Snow knows _some things..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive!

“Arya.”

“No.”

“ _Arya_.”

“I said  _no_ , Gendry.”

Raising his hands in frustration, Gendry stared at her with absolute incredulity. “Are you telling me that you are perfectly capable of killing the bloody  _Night King_ but telling your brother that you’re pregnant with my baby is just a bridge too far?”

She could tell that there was a hint of amusement behind his exasperation, and it made her stomach flutter. Just another one of those little things that showed her he truly cared for her. It still wasn’t enough, however, to quell her sense of impending doom, which was absolutely absurd. Arya was a grown woman, after all, and John- along with the rest of Westeros- owed her their lives. By right she should be able to do what she wanted, without question. And her list of wants these days contained one name and one name alone…

“That’s just it, he’s my  _brother_. I don’t want my brother to be privy to the fact that I have been sleeping with anyone, never mind someone he considers to be his friend.”

He understood that, one hundred percent. But while thought of Jon finding out the true extent of his relationship with Arya was less than appealing, it was also a necessity. “Yes, but I’m afraid that there’s a bit of a time limit on this…” shuffling close to her, Gendry placed his hands over the now more obvious swell of her belly. A bit of a change, as they could previously almost wrap entirely around her tiny waist. “I don’t think we can hide this pregnancy forever, and even if we could there is still the matter of the babe at the end of it all.” 

Not just a babe,  _their_ babe. If there was an afterlife, and indeed if he was in it, she was sure that Robert Baratheon would be rejoicing. Not for the first time, Arya thought if the King had taken the time to know his bastard, that he would be proud of him. Much prouder than he ever was of Joffrey. 

Her shoulders sagged, knowing that this was an inevitability. And the last thing she wanted was for Gendry to think she was ashamed of him, which couldn't have been farther from the truth. "I'll tell him. But I have to do it alone."  

"I would rather be there with you. As you said, I'm Jon's friend. I owe it to him to look him in the eye, not just send his little sister to break the news to him." 

Arya couldn't help but smile. "You're a good man, Gendry," she placed her palm flat against his cheek, loving how he instinctively turned to press his lips against it, "but I think this is something I need to do alone. Jon and I have always had... an understanding. More so than any of our other siblings." 

"If that's what you think is best.”

“It is.”

“Okay,” Gendry relented, knowing that really it was the end outcome rather than the method that was most important here. He was sure that, either way, the news wasn’t going to go down entirely well. A bastard himself, he knew that that would not be something that Jon would want for Arya’s child, even if he liked Gendry well enough. To be entirely truthful, it wasn’t something that Gendry wanted for her either, but if there was something narrowly defeating death was good for, it was perspective.

Silence fell over them as he looked at her and she looked at him, neither moving an inch nor saying a word. Gendry didn’t know whether to laugh are frown. “Are you not going to go?” 

“Oh, not yet…” a wicked smile, crept across her face as she grasped him by his shirt and pulled him over to the bed. “Not yet.”

 

It was a good way of procrastinating, Arya thought as she finally went in search of her brother, but by no means did it make anything easier. She found the great hall empty, the same with Jon’s rooms, and Arya had been almost willing to return to hers and let her love know that she tried _her very best_ when she happened across him somewhere she hadn’t been expecting: the ‘war’ room. 

It had seldom been used since what they were calling the Battle of Winterfell, as it had been collectively decided that those remaining needed to regroup before a move of any kind against Cersei in the South could be contemplated. It would all begin again soon, but for know people were quite content with having a bit of a break, to mourn their dead comrades.

He looked troubled, sat tracing patterns over random parts of the large map of Westeros, and it wasn’t unexpected that he failed to notice her presence until she intentionally drew his attention to it. 

“Why are you hiding out here by yourself?”

Jumping, Jon wanted to chastise her for startling him but found that his pursed lips twisted into more of a smile instead. “Just doing some thinking.”

“Yeah, me too.” Hovering awkwardly for a moment, Arya made her way over to the table and pulled out a chair directly across from him. It felt oddly like some kind of business transaction, but she knew not what else to do. This wasn’t a situation that she had every imagined getting herself into. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

His eyebrows raised. “Yeah, me too. I’ve been avoiding it for a couple of weeks now, but there’s only so much stalling I can do. And, well, you’re here…” 

 _Wonderful…_ “I think I should go first,” she frowned, trying not to sound too desperate, “before I lose my ner-“

“I’m not a bastard.”

Arya blinked. “What?”

Hesitating for a moment, he drew a deep breath. It was one thing telling Dany, but this felt like another battle entirely. Second only to telling Sansa, which he still wasn’t sure he was ready for. “All my life I thought I was. And so did the whole world. But now it seems that’s not the case.”

“Jon, I-“

“My real name is Aegon Targaryen. Rhaegar Targaryen is- _was_ \- my father. And Lyanna Stark was my mother. He had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled, apparently. So that they could marry. Lyanna died giving birth to me.” 

It felt as if the earth had stopped turning around her, and Arya could only observe him with complete and utter incredulity, her jaw almost resting on the floor. Surely that could not be the case. He was Jon Snow, her father’s bastard. Not the son of the would-be king of Westeros and- 

Oh.

“But- that means-“

“-It doesn’t-“

“That Daenerys isn’t the heir-" 

“This doesn’t change anything,” he nipped that thought in the bud, cringing when his words sounded a lot harsher than he had intended, “Daenerys is our Queen. She was born for this.”

Though it was probably wildly inappropriate, Arya couldn’t help but laugh. “ _You_ were born for this, which is the problem.”

He glared at her. “Nothing will change- at least not yet. I don’t know whether this is going to become common knowledge, but I wanted you to know. There’s never been any secrets between us.” 

In other circumstances Arya would have pressed the matter further. As it stood, however, she had other things on her mind. Among them, Gendry killing her for still failing to tell her brother.

Cousin? This was all so confusing. “Thank you for telling me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still my brother.” 

Though it was a bit of a stretch, Jon reached across the table for her hand. She could see the relief if his eyes, in his smile. Even his shoulders seemed less burdened. “And you’ll always be my favourite, just don’t tell anyone else…” he laughed until he saw how she froze, remembering himself. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

 _Just like killing: quick and straight to the point_. “Oh, it’s not much really...” in her defence, after the news he’d just dropped on her, that really was the case, “I’m just pregnant.”

 

 

When Arya returned to him, a smirk firmly set on her face, a million and one different scenarios went through Gendry’s mind. 

None of them came even remotely close to the truth.

“How did it go? Should I sleep with a knife under my pillow tonight?”  

As if he would have needed it with _her_ next to him anyway. “I think you’re going to be fine. You’re right, I had nothing to fear.”

Gendry hadn’t been entirely certain that that was the truth, needing to say as much out of necessity. He was very relieved, however, that he had been right. A grin spread across his face. “That’s wonderful.”

“It is. Though he didn’t really have much of a leg to stand on.”

“Because he’s a bastard too?”

  
“No.” Arya laughed. It wasn’t just a giggle, like he’d heard ever now and then since their reunion. Gendry wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her laugh like that and the sound warmed his heart, even in the cold of Winterfell. Just as her smile did. “Because he’s a Targaryen…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be inclined to have another follow up chapter where Jon and Gendry have to face each other, if that is something you would like... ;)


	3. Daenerys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so funnily enough I had actually planned this chapter before I saw _that_ episode this morning. I have but a few comments to make.  
> 1\. Gendry Baratheon. Finally  
> 2\. Who the fuck was Gendry Rivers? Seriously?  
> 3\. How dare they?!  
> 4\. I am certain that this ship will live to sail another day. We just must be patient. 
> 
> In the meantime, I am pretending that never happened and would like to invite you to join me ;) This is not the chapter you had asked for, but I thought it was important to fit in before the chapter you asked for ;) There will be at least 1 more. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments and kudos! You keep me going and it never fails to make me smile like an idiot ♥

“Your Grace.”

Looking up from where she had been seated alongside the hearth, Daenerys smiled. It was a natural reaction when he was around, even after their little… _surprise_ of a number of weeks ago. In truth, the matter was not close to resolution, but they’d managed it as best they could up to this point. And by managing it, she meant not addressing it where possible. “I thought us past the formalities. You must come bearing troubling news.”

It could never have been said that Jon Snow was skilled in the art of deception. “It’s not so much troubling news as much as I have a favour to ask.”

“If it is within my power, it is yours.”

He thought she might come to regret answering so quickly. “It’s about my sister.”

“Sansa?” Dany raised her eyebrows, not entirely pleased by this turn of events. “What of her?”

“No, not Sansa. Arya.”

“Oh. Then let me hear it. I’m not sure there will ever be enough I can do to repay the debt I owe her. That we all owe her. If there’s some place I can start…”

Feeling a little bit more confident, Jon nodded, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot momentarily before joining her alongside the fire. “She came to see me today. She’s- well, she’s with child.”

Dany didn’t even attempt to hide her astonishment. “ _Arya_ is with child?”

“As much as it pains me to say it, yes.”

“I would ask if someone had forced himself on her, but I doubt any man would have survived the attempt with his most precious parts intact,” the corner of her mouth turned upwards, a woman after her own heart, “Who is the father?”

“Gendry.”

Though he had expected her to be as surprised as he had been, she merely laughed and nodded, as if putting it all together in her head. “Ah yes, well I suppose that makes sense.” Jon was tempted to enquire as to how he appeared to be the only one to not have picked up on whatever had been going on between his sister and the smith, but didn’t think it the right time. Not when there were more important matters at hand. “What would you have me do? The Night’s Watch no longer exists. I suppose I could have him flogged, if you were so inclined. Or send him away on a boat, as Davos did. It is a brave smith who gets a child on a highborn lady…”

She mocked him, he knew. Dany had always cared less about the title, or lack thereof, that a person possessed that their value to her and her cause. And Gendry had served her well. Just as well as Arya had. He wondered how long that smile would last when he got to the crux of the matter. “Her child will be a bastard. A Snow.”

“Little consequence that will be of to anyone with half a brain.”

It was true. In the North, at least, views had changed on what it meant to be a bastard during the past few years. “All the same. This is not what my fa- my uncle and Lady Catelyn would have wanted for her.”

“So you would have me grant him a lordship? So that he might marry her?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What manner?” she asked, expression becoming guarded, “I do not wish to play games, Jon. Tell me what it is you seek.”

“I would have you- I would _ask_ you- to allow him what is rightfully his. Storms’ End has been the seat of the Baratheons for-“

Daenerys Targaryen used to pride herself on being able to see people’s intentions, even when they tried to conceal them, to see when they were trying to play her for a fool. Jon Snow, on the other hand, continued to vex her completely. “You would have me _legitimise_ him? So that your sister’s child will be born a Baratheon rather than a bastard. Are you mad?”

“He is the last of his line-“

“And for good reason, too. It’s no more than they deserve. In case you have forgotten, Robert Baratheon killed my brother. _Your_ father. They took everything from us, and yet you expect me to grant legitimacy to the son of the Usurper?”

“Gendry has served us all well. He is no more his father than you are yours.”

She stood abruptly. “And what happens when people see in him Robert reborn? Many will think him the rightful heir to the throne.”

He stood with her. “Trust me, Your Grace, Gendry has no ambitions to sit that throne. And I don’t believe he could be convinced otherwise, even by my sister herself. He’s a humble man- good, but certainly not a ruler. And if you were to grant him Storms’ End, you would have a very powerful ally. A grateful and therefore _loyal_ ally.”

The Queen could see the reason, but it did not sit well with her. The Targaryens and the Baratheons had a long history, one that was not easily forgotten. One of the Usurper’s last acts had been to attempt to have her killed, when she was new with child. Though, for sure, she could not say that she could ever envisage the smith that she had come to know and respect ever contemplating such a thing. “They will be married? Regardless?”

“You know my sister; she does as she pleases.” That brought a hint of a smile to his lips. “But I do truly believe that she loves him. Something I never thought possible. Especially- she’s different now. Not entirely the person I used to know. But when she spoke of Gendry and her child… He was there for her, when none of her family could be. When I could not be. I would like very much to be able to repay him for that.”

Daenerys said nothing. Instead, she inched closer again to the hearth, extending her hand so that her fingertips brushed the flames. Out of the corner of her eye, he saw Jon move to stop her, before remembering himself. It had been a point of curiosity for her since she’d told her the truth about his parentage, whether he had the same immunity to fire as she had. Viserys had not, that much was for certain. She wondered if that was a gift she shared with Rhaegar, and perhaps now with his son too.

“I should like to think on the matter some, before I come to a decision.”

Well, it was certainly more encouraging than a flat ‘no’. “Take as much time as you need. It like will be a while before the babe is born, anyway,” he gave her a small smile, and felt relief course through him when she returned it tenfold.

“Yes, that is how pregnancy works. Have you spoken to the man yet?”

“I have not. Arya told me the news herself not long ago. She said that he had wanted to be there when she told me the news, but that she preferred to speak to me alone. I’m taking that to be a good sign. At least he’s not making a run for it.”

“I doubt he will,” she mused, turning her attention away from the fire and back to him once again, “men have a habit of devoting themselves to powerful women.”

 


	4. Gendry and John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ending was pretty bad to be honest. But there's comfort in knowing that at least there will be no more disappointments... 
> 
> Sorry this one took so long, it's been hectic. 
> 
> Enjoy ♥

“Well, don’t you look rather pleased with yourself.”

Gendry, who had previously been in a world of his own, stopped in his tracks the minute he heard the familiar voice. Though his nerves threatened to get the better of him, he turned to face his friend and colleague. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Jon had been, but he would have preferred not to tell him that. “I take it your conversation with the Queen was rewarding?”

“Yeah, actually,” he still couldn’t quite believe it. Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End. When he had left the Capitol all those years ago, he’d been nobody. A smith that no one wanted enough to keep him around. And now here he stood, a Lord. The son of a King.

Someone who now had something to give his child.

“Good.”

“I’m still not entirely sure why she did it, truth be told. She hated my father. Hells, he even tried to have her killed more than once. And that’s _after_ he killed her brother and took her father’s throne.”

The knowledge that that brother was also his father was not yet any easier to grasp, and Jon found himself grateful for the brief reprieve as he stepped to the left to allow a small cluster of unsullied, of the few who remained after the Battle, pass. “You’ve served her well. You’ve served us all well. If Daenerys isn’t her father, then you’re not yours. Besides that, your great-grandmother was a Targaryen and it’s thought that Orys Baratheon himself was the bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror. That makes you kin.”

Gendry blinked, his first thought marvelling at how Jon knew more about his family than he ever probably would. That was before he remembered. “If I’m to believe what I’ve heard, that makes us kin too.”

That gave the other man pause. “In more ways than one. I shouldn’t be surprised that she told you.”

“I’m not going to say a word to anyone,” he swore, “None of that is any of my business.”

“It is like you say,” said Jon, “We’re kin. Or at least I hope we will be, but I’ve not yet heard of any weddings…”

 _Of course,_ Gendry nodded. How could he have been so stupid? Of course this hadn’t come completely out of the blue. For a moment, he’d been under the impression that they had deemed him worthy. “It makes sense now. You asked the Queen to grant me legitimacy, didn’t you? Because it wouldn’t do for a highborn lady to have a son by a lowly bastard blacksmith.”

“I’m a bastard too, remember?”

“No,” he could now say with absolute certainty, “You’re not.”

As he began to turn away, Jon stepped right into the other man’s line of vision once again. “I was- I _am_ in every way it matters. The world still thinks I’m the bastard son of Ned Stark, and I would rather let them than tell them who I really am. Being a bastard doesn’t make you any less of a person, probably the opposite, in fact. And I like to think I’ve gotten to know you well enough to know that you’re a good, honourable man. And, even if I hadn’t, the fact that my sister has deemed you worthy of her love is good enough for me. So no, I didn’t ask Dani to legitimise you because I didn’t want Arya to have a bastard baby by a bastard father. I did it because you both deserve it.

“This war has taken so much from us, before we even knew it had begun. Arya’s been on the run for almost most of her life, you similarly. If now isn’t the time to claim your birth right as the last living Baratheon, before you bring a little lord or lady into the world, then when is?” Jon paused for a moment, continuing only when the other man said nothing. “My sister loves you for who you are, and though she never particularly wanted to become a mother she will love your child too. This can be easy. The hardest part is convincing the Queen to grant you the Baratheon name and your ancestral seat, which is already done. Now you just have to live your lives, when the war is over.”

“I-“ Gendry’s mouth twitched, and he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt just for something to do with his hands, so used were they to moving, “I don’t think there will ever come a day when I feel like I deserve her. But I suppose I have a better chance as Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End, than Gendry Waters, the bastard smith.”

Jon knew the doubt well, and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I think the only way you won’t deserve her is if you treat her badly. If you take care of her and her child, then I’m sure you will be fine.”

Nodding, Gendry felt his cheeks heat up as he struggled to find the right words. “Just so you know… she was just a little girl to me before. I mean- I loved her, but I never thought-“

“I get it,” said Jon, before he could make this any more awkward for the two of them, “she’s not the same person she was when I last saw her, either. And I have no doubt that she would have killed you if you had done anything to her that she didn’t like.”

Though it was phrased as a joke, he certainly believed it. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Your father would be proud, you know.”

“Would he?”

“Absolutely,” Jon assured him, wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “A Stark-Baratheon union was all he ever wanted apparently. Wouldn’t shut up about it the last time he was here. And you’re far less of a cunt than that brother of yours, too.”

Gendry shuddered. Thank the gods.

 

 


	5. The Hound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I was adamant this would be a one-shot. 
> 
> I might do another two chapters, one with Sansa and one with Davos (as suggested, which really was a stroke of genius) but I feel like this one wraps it up quite nicely even if I don't.
> 
> Thank you so so much for all the kudos and comments, it's always so wonderful to know that people are enjoying! ♥

“Well, if it isn’t our very own mini kingslayer…”

Arya, whose sickness was getting the better of her anyway, could only grimace as the Hound towered over her. He obviously hadn’t got the memo that she was in hiding from, and even so, he was the very bottom of the list of people she might want to see.

He didn’t take the hint that was inferred by her silence. “Trouble in paradise with your little Lord already?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she snapped, pulling her knees against her chest in the hope it would make her feel less like puking, “but we are perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“That may be the case, but you’re forgetting that I know you a lot better than either of us would prefer.”

Arya arched an eyebrow. “What? You want me to pour my heart out to you?”

“Fuck no. I just want you to know that there’s no pulling the wool over my eyes, girl.”

She gave him no reply to that, as she knew that it was probably true. Figuring that would be the end of that, Arya went back to focusing her attention on retaining what little she’d eaten to break her fast, only noticing after a minute that he lingered when he sat down beside her. She bit down on the inside of her cheek in an attempt to quell her annoyance; he always seemed to have a talent for being around when she least wanted him.

“It’s looking like we’ll be heading back down to that gods forsaken, rats nest of a capital soon enough.”

“You don’t have to go, you know. This isn’t your war.”

“Aye,” he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, mouth twitching, “Just like it’s not yours.”

 _That’s different_ , she wanted to tell him. But Arya couldn’t say for sure that it was. The Lannisters had taken almost everything from her, but he had endured them and his brother since before she was even born. “I thought it was. But… circumstances have changed.”

“Ah, so that’s were your little Lord comes in. What you gonna do? Sit out the fighting and stay up here with him? I’m not sure that Storms End is ripe for the taking just yet…”

“If you had asked me a couple of months ago, I would have laughed at you.” Or done more than laughed, perhaps. “But circumstances change. People change, too apparently. And I know you may not respect me for it, if you ever did, but I think that the only way to really move forward is to leave everything else behind.”

The Hound’s eyebrows raised, and for a moment Arya was sure he was going to laugh in her face. Which left her completely surprised and rather unnerved when he didn’t.

“Not respect you? I have never respected you more, girl. It takes far more courage to turn your back on a fight that you’ve been running towards all your life than meet it head on. Take it from someone who knows; last thing you want to do is end up a miserable cunt like me, whose greatest act in life will be getting on a horse and riding down to the capital knowing full well that I’ll never make it out again. I know I’m not going to be one of those lucky bastards in the stories that faces their past and beats it. Endings like that aren’t meant for people like me. All I’ve ever done is caused myself and others misery.”

Angling her body towards him, Arya vehemently shook her head. “You’re wrong. You were there for me, when I didn’t know I needed you. You were there for Sansa. You protected both of us. You never asked for credit and we gave you none, but you helped us to be where we are now. There are people who want you around, if you would just _let go_.”

“I _can’t_ ,” he said, pained, “Not everyone can get a happy ending, girl. You should know that by now. The least we can do is not lie to ourselves about our reality. Some prophecies are just self-fulfilling. There’s no stopping them. And at this point, I’m not sure that I want to.” Seeing how the girl deflated in front of him, arms wrapping around herself, Sandor sighed. “If by some miracle I make it out alive- and I’m not entirely sure I want to- I’ll come back to visit. Maybe visit the Stormlands first, before taking a trip back up here.”

She didn’t believe that he ever would, but that didn’t stop Arya hoping against hope. It was a sensation she never thought herself capable of feeling, as far as he was concerned. “You know, I’m not just sitting this one out because of Gendry. I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Sandor thought that she was joking, until he saw how her arms tightened around her stomach, saw it in her eyes. Someone who was so good at taking life, creating it. The world was a funny place. “Gods, girl. What does your sister think of that?”

“She doesn’t know, not yet anyway. Jon does, Gendry obviously does. And now you do, that’s it. I think I’m more afraid of telling her than I was Jon. Hells, I think I’m more afraid of telling her than I was confronting the Night King. Sansa has always been so proper,” she frowned, chewing on her lip, “I don’t think she’d appreciate my getting pregnant outside of marriage.”

“To be fair, she probably never expected you to get married.”

Though it seemed highly inappropriate, Arya couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s true. I never expected to get married either. I suppose it’s a bit ironic, really. Sansa always wanted to marry a handsome Baratheon…”

Yes, he supposed it was. Life had a fucking annoying way of laughing at your plans. “Well, I’ll have to make sure I stick around long enough to witness this. Never thought I’d see the day when you married the son of a king. Although I’m not sure that any other Lord would have you, you’re a right pain in the arse at the best of times. I’m not sure the fella knows what he’s gotten himself in for.”

In a completely unexpected turn of events, Arya found herself grinning as memories of their life on the road sprung up once again. So funny was it to look back now and realise that it was him, it was always him. Right there in front of her nose. “Oh, he knows.”

 

 


End file.
